


Letters need titles?  Goddammit...

by LynnLarsh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynnLarsh/pseuds/LynnLarsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the last time I take Oprah's advice. God, this is embarrassing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters need titles?  Goddammit...

I don’t really know what to say, you know? 

I guess, with shit as crazy as it is right now, I just needed to… I don’t know, talk to someone? Someone who’s not my brother. Or Cas or... I don’t know, just someone. Anyone else, really, doesn’t matter who. Which is why I’m writing this, isn’t it? This stupid attempt at what? A Dear John letter to no one? I don’t even know what I’ll do with it when I’m done, I just had to do something, you know? Maybe I’ll leave it on the side of the road somewhere like some message in a bottle crap. Or shove it in some random stranger’s mailbox. By the way, whatever I ended up doing, if it was illegal in some way… Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, but my bad. And to whoever’s reading this, sorry in advance for whatever this amounts to. If it amounts to anything at all.

So… Here it goes then, I guess.

Where do I even start, though?

This is the last time I take Oprah’s advice. God, this is embarrassing.

Ok. So.

I like to think you’re probably laughing at this pathetic, half-baked attempt at a… whatever this is. Probably wondering if it’s some kind of joke your friend is punking you with, right? I hope you think it’s funny, actually. I could use a little funny right now, even if it’s only through you. You forget what funny feels like after a while. You know, those laughs that feel like you’re being stabbed in the sides and your face is gonna get stuck that way and you’re laughing so hard you’re crying. Have you ever laughed like that? I hope so. It’s one of the best feelings. Don’t ever stop laughing. You’ll miss it when you do.

And I hope you’re laughing with someone. It doesn’t matter who, but for some reason, laughing is always better when you’re doing it together. Like the sort of laughing where you can’t stop because every time you try they start back up again and then you start back up again too and then you’re practically on the floor and in pain and you can’t breathe and it’s the best, man. It really is. Better than sex.

Okay, maybe not that good, but you get my point. Don’t forget to laugh. Laugh as much as you can as often as you can, even when you don’t want to. In fact, in those times, laugh harder. It’ll probably freak people out. 

You know what else? While I’m on it, eat some pie. Every chance you get. If you’re one of these people who can make your own, good for you, go make one and eat it. Right now. If you’re not, like the rest of us poor bastards, go get one. And eat it. Right now. Whatever you need to do. Make a run to the store for some classic Apple and some milk, or take a road trip and pull over at the nearest hole in the wall, “mom and pop” diner for a slice of the special. Whatever you need to do. Just make it happen. You’ll be glad you did. Nothing’s better than a road trip and a huge slice of pie. Not even sex.

You think I’m joking, but there’s this diner in Providence that makes a Pecan pie that is damn near orgasmic. Almost made a two hour detour for it once, but my brother got all pissy about getting me to the hospital for a broken leg that really wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be. He just doesn’t understand the healing power of pie.

Um, all that aside, I didn’t really mean for this to be some sort of to do list for you, honest. I just… I don’t know, I wish someone had told me these things years ago. Just sat me down and warned me that life would be a bitch, but that it’s okay if it is because you have things like classic rock and pie and sex and a kick ass car and moments that’ll make you laugh so hard you choke on your own spit and even though they’re not gonna be all the time, these things will make the hard times seem… I don’t know, a little less hard. 

Maybe if Cas gets his wings on straight for once, he could send me back to do it, tell a younger, more naïve and optimistic me that life is shit, and you’ve got to hold on real tight to the good things when they happen, because everything comes to an end. But that’s okay, because that means the bad things are gonna come to an end too. 

And sometimes, every once and a while, you’ll say something stupid while you’re arguing with your brother and he’ll look at you like you just threw up a unicorn and he’ll bust out laughing. And you’ll laugh too, because what else can you do, really? And just for that second, the good things will outweigh the bad things. And you’ll be okay.

But I guess it’s more complicated than that, right? And it probably doesn’t make much sense to you, whoever you are. Your life might be full of good things. Hell, you might not even realize how many good things you rack up just by being alive and living and doing things like watching TV and eating a sandwich and remembering to call your friend or your grandma or your brother. Just to talk.

Not to get all chick flick on you or anything, and I’m definitely not one to give advice on this sort of thing, but take my word for it. Never pass up an opportunity to just… talk. It doesn’t have to be about anything important. And arguing about a movie or the best kind of pie definitely counts. But it’s when you don’t talk, when you pretend like everything’s alright when it’s not that…

Well, I’ve probably wasted enough of your time. I don’t even know if I’ll do anything with this, but if I do, whoever you are, I hope your life is less of a shit show than mine. And I hope that, if it isn’t, you’ll take what I said to heart. Because it’s the little things, the good things, that make life worth living. And sometimes we forget to grab them before they get away.

Before this gets any sappier, I guess I’ll wrap this up. Whatever this is.

If you smell rotten eggs, salt your windows and doors.

 

Dean


End file.
